


dr. newton geiszler and the no good very bad awful attempt at planning a birthday party of two (2)

by OnyxSphinx



Series: newmann one-shots [117]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, but not so great with the execution, he's well intentioned, poor Newt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21528343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: Newt's on a mission; specifically, to give Hermann anunforgettablebirthday.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Series: newmann one-shots [117]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1286762
Kudos: 26





	dr. newton geiszler and the no good very bad awful attempt at planning a birthday party of two (2)

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "Hello! I loved your most recent prompt! That was just so sad and poignant and hopeful! I have a prompt that I hope you will be willing to consider. I saw it somewhere and thought it would be funny. Newton just created a group chat called Newt's Surprise Party and then left the group. I'm feeling a lot of emotions but mostly respect."

In his defence, he hadn't meant for it to get to this point.

Still, the reality is, he's standing in the middle of the lab, streamers of varying colours of streamers strewn about the room, some melting in the—neutralised!—k-blue that's on the floor and tables, and there's a thin layer of glitter covering everything, glinting as the light from the strip-LEDs on the ceiling hits it.

Of course, it's then that the door handle begins to turn.

A moment later, Hermann steps in; stops, wide-eyed, and stares at Newt, jaw slack; takes in the mess around him. "... _Newton?_ "

"It's not what you think!" Newt exclaims.

* * *

It starts when Hermann lets it slip that he's never had a birthday cake. They're discussing something—civilly, for once—, and Newt says, off-handed, "Oh, man, I remember that time my dad made me a Frankenstein's Monster cake for my birthday...that was _sick._ "

Hermann blinks at him. "A what now?" he questions.

"Mostly fondant," Newt admits, "but I was like, nine, so I didn't really care."

"Why would your father do such a thing?" Hermann asks, "sacrifice his time for that—why not just buy you a nice gift?"

Newt stops for a moment; stares at him. "'Cause it was my birthday?" he says, slowly.

Hermann hums; expression doubtful, and the cogs in Newt's brain creak into action, turning until the dust puffs up and disperses. "Hermann," he says, "have you never had a birthday cake?"

"That's hardly a pertinent question," Hermann says; stiffly, avoiding his gaze.

"Holy shit," Newt says softly, "you've never—?"

"No," Hermann snaps, "I've never seen a reason. Please drop it, Newton, we have work to attend to."

"Alright," Newt says; after a moment; grudging, but his brain's running light-speed as Hermann returns to his chalk-boards, the scrape of chalk lending to a white noise. On the outside, Newt's putting vials into the hand-cranked centrifuge, but in the dark corridors of his mind, a plan begins to form.

The plan—or, rather, The Plan—, is simple: give Hermann the bang-up party that he deserves. It's simple—there's just one glaring roadblock.

Newt doesn't know when Hermann's birthday is.

One would think that spending four years as penpals, and then almost ten years working together would mean Newt would know when Hermann's birthday is, but no; Hermann's always been uptight about his private life, even when they were on good terms, and that particular detail was one he had never disclosed.

Newt _could_ just ask Hermann...

Nah.

* * *

Attempt one: Tendo.

Tendo, being the Chief Communications Officer, is also privy to a shit-ton of other stuff, like gossip, and thus, the perfect person to turn to for this—it's not a confidential detail, and it won't hurt Hermann in any way if Tendo tells him.

There's only one problem.

"Sorry, bud," Tendo says, with a shrug, "I have no idea."

"You _what?_ " Newt whisper-shrieks, throwing up his hands, "dude how can you _not—_ "

"I don't," Tendo says, again, "look, I'd tell you if I did, man, but I have no clue, sorry."

Newt sighs. "Nah, it's fine," he says, turning to walk away, "I'll just...figure it out myself."

"Best of luck," Tendo calls after him.

"Thanks," Newt mutters, "I think I'll need it."

Attempt two: Pentecost.

"And why, exactly, do you want this information, Mr. Geiszler," Pentecost asks; voice not betraying a single though; face blank.

Newt swallows and offers up a tentative smile. "Uh, I want to surprise Her—I mean, Doctor Gottlieb? Like, for his birthday, you know, do something nice..."

"Absolutely not," Pentecost says, "your idea of _surprise_ is _not_ a good one. Now get out of my office."

"Yes_sir,_" Newt squeaks, and backs out.

Attempt three: this one involves a few different steps.

Step one: access the database of HK Shatterdome employees and add as many numbers as he possibly can to his phone (totally legally!!!).

Step two: add every single contact on his phone to a single groupchat. Rename groupchat "Newt's Surprise Party" (not a lie!), text a single cryptic sentence ("wait and see ;)") and revel for a moment in the ensuing panic.

Step three: use said panic as a cover to distract the techs and sneak into the slightly-more classified (read: highly classified) records. Locate Hermann's file and get a quick photo.

Step four: escape without detection.

All in all, it turns out _splendidly,_ if Newt does say so himself.

He pulls out his phone later that night and scrolls through camera roll.

_June 9th._

He smiles to himself.

* * *

He figures Hermann probably doesn't want anything _too_ big, so he just orders a few (dozen) streamers, a (few) bottles of glitter, a (large) ice-cream cake decorated with triangles, and exactly thirty-five of those trick sparkler candles that springs back to light after you blow it out.

Everything's going great— _fantastic,_ actually; on the ninth, he sends Hermann off downtown on a wild-goose-chase for something he just oh so _desperately_ needs in order to do _work,_ and then gets to decorating.

The cake goes in the freezer, though he has to shove aside a few specimens to make space for it, and the candles barely clear the top, _but_ it all works out in the end.

He begins to throw up streamers.

That's when things go horribly, terribly wrong.

He must've missed that puddle of slime somehow, even though he could have sworn he mopped the lab sparkling clean, and as he begins to put up the streamers, he's not paying attention to where his feet are landing. Almost in slow-motion, he steps in the puddle of semi-congealed kaiju _something,_ flails his arms, sending streamers everywhere, grabs onto a table blindly in an attempt to balance himself, falls, anyway, bringing a tray of kaiju samples crashing to the ground as well as knocking the glass (fuck, why did he put it into a _glass_ jar?) jar of glitter to the ground, where it shatters, sending up a cloud of blue glitter that leaves Newt hacking, eyes watering.

His knees sting as they hit the ground, and for a moment, he can't do anything but lay there and try and get his bearings.

When he stands up, gripping the table for support, he takes stock of the room.

It's a disaster.

That's when Hermann opens the door.

"... _Newton?_ "

"It's not what you think!"

"Then what," Hermann says, slowly, taking in Newt's form, "pray tell, _is_ it?"

"Uh," Newt grimaces. "Well..." he sighs; slowly makes his way over to the freezer. "Happy birthday," he says, lamely, turning to offer up the cake. "Uh. Sorry it didn't exactly turn out the way I imagined..."

Hermann blinks at him slowly for a moment. "...birthday?" he asks, "I—oh, I hadn't realised..."

"Well, we can, uh, just forget about it if you want—"

"No, no, no!" Hermann exclaims. "That's—oh, Newton, that's rather sweet of you to go to such lengths."

"Oh," Newt says. "Um. Do you...want cake?"

Hermann takes a tentative step closer; then another, until they're close enough to touch. "I think I would," he says, smiling warmly, "and then we can clean up this mess you made."

"Y—yeah, sounds good," Newt says, and his cheeks hurt from how hard he's grinning.

(Operation status: _unmitigated success._ )

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
